


One Phone Call Away

by Gabrieldiedforoursins



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: College Setting, Gen, Jeremy is a ball of issues, Jeremy is a ball of the author's issues, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attack, anxiety attack, correction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrieldiedforoursins/pseuds/Gabrieldiedforoursins
Summary: Jeremy has a bad night, and calls on Michael to fix it





	One Phone Call Away

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Projecting onto fictional characters? WHaaaaaaa?  
> No, In all seriousness, shout out to my best friend for coming to get me this weekend from college at a moments notice. I don't know how well I would have kept functioning if you hadn't have gotten me.

Jeremy was curled up in a ball in his bunk, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his phone. _In and out, In and out. Come on, just breath, you're fine, dumb-ass_. He tried to take shuddery breaths, but they just weren't coming. What was coming, however, were the streams of self depreciating thoughts. _Not good enough. Never good enough. Reject. Backup. Loser._ He dropped his phone onto the mattress in favor of clutching his hair, the faint pain from pulling at the follicles almost but not quite snapping him from the attack.

 

He wasn't a stranger to anxiety attacks. He used to have them almost daily in high school. And for the first couple years of college, he'd get them after the start of each semester. He figured he'd be better at riding them out, given he was a junior at this point, but that just didn't seem the case. At least now, for the most part, they were just anxiety attacks. The only voice in his head yelling at him was his own. Each anxiety attack used to be tinged with electric crackles and an all too smooth voice telling him that everything about him was worthless and pathetic. But, Jeremy thought with a sad laugh, he must have finally gotten to the point where the SQUIP was satisfied with leaving Jeremy to his own thoughts. Those were punishing enough.

 

The SQUIP was nothing more than a memory after the events of the play, after Michael managed to save him and the school. But it still liked to haunt Jeremy in what was likely PTSD, undiagnosed of course. Once Jeremy was out of the hospital, he didn't want to go anywhere near another authority figure that wanted to mess with his brain. He just didn't trust the idea of someone talking to him and picking out things that were wrong with him. He did that well enough on his own.

 

Jeremy thought he had started getting a handle on things a little better, once the voice of the SQUIP had finally died off. But the fact he was shaking in the dark at 2 am, sobbing like a teenager when he was just months shy of twenty one, proved otherwise. Once he was finally able to breath somewhat regularly, he grabbed his phone from where it had fallen between the mattress and the wall, and opened it, fingers flying to type in an all familiar number as the recipient, and a quick message.

  
[text]: mikey? [sent]  
[text]: ffs, it's 2:04, what? [received]  
[text]: come get me? Need to come home. [sent]

 

Jeremy waited anxiously, not that he could do it any other way, for Michael's reply. Jeremy went to college almost an hour away from home, where as Michael was able to commute each day to the art school and have a pretty okay apartment in town.  
The glow of his phone lit up the dark room, and Jeremy jolted a little when the bed vibrated.

  
[text]: srry, had to get gas. omw [received]

 

He let out a sigh of relief as he saw an affirmative message from his best friend. Jeremy really needed the comforts of home at that moment. He'd stay the weekend, get a reset, and then be good as new for a while. He was going to be fine.


End file.
